


Scars

by LunaBlue4



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: But it's okay, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Please be safe, This is a sweet one, a little sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 13:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10388094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaBlue4/pseuds/LunaBlue4
Summary: “Every person was born clean, skin smooth and unblemished and beautiful. But as a person grew, as they felt loss and hurt and pain and learned what it meant to be alive, the scars began to appear.”Or, an idea I had, where emotional pain leaves physical scars on the body.





	

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Phil asked, even as Dan went to stand from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed. He was nervous. He could feel his heart in his throat, his palms began to sweat. He forever had sweaty hands, but Phil didn’t care, had always threaded their fingers together anyway. He wiped his palms on his sweatpants.

Phil looked at him for a moment, staring unblinkingly with his green-blue eyes as he did sometimes. “Only if you’re sure.” He said. Dan nodded, a careful controlled moment. He wanted to hide.

Slowly, Phil took a few steps toward Dan and turned around, back facing him. In what seemed like one fluid moment he was stood only his underwear, shoulder blades sticking out a little and shoulders moving as he breathed. Dan could tell he was nervous.

“They…” Phil started. Then stopped. Dan could see him fix his fringe, and couldn’t help but smile a little at the movement. The pair of them would probably die arranging their hair. But at least they would look good in the after-life. 

With a deep breath he turned around.

Every person was born clean, skin smooth and unblemished and beautiful. But as a person grew, as they felt loss and hurt and pain and learned what it meant to be alive, the scars began to appear. Some of the lucky ones, they only had a couple gashes over the space on their chest where their heart beat underneath. A few had no scars at all; those were the people you avoided at all costs. But the others, the ones who felt deeply, or perhaps just had fate stacked against them, their scars were harder to hide.

Phil’s were long and deep, two almost perfectly straight lines cut though his body, a set of silver railroad tracks leaving their mark. They spanned from the junction between neck and right shoulder all the way down through his left hip, only ending once they reached the middle of his thigh. Dan kind of wanted to reach out and trace a finger over the marks, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed. 

He wanted to mark Phil in different ways, teeth on neck to create dark purple marks that would ease the tension from his shoulders. Marks that would fade but wouldn’t be any less meaningful for it. 

The space between the two boys was quiet save for their heartbeats, and seemingly the light had dimmed in tandem. The room would have been pitch black had it not been for the complicatedly artsy lamp set up in the corner. As it was, it’s job was more fulfilled as an art piece than a source of light.

“At least they aren’t on my face?” Phil offered into the quiet, poking at the silence with hesitant determination. Dan didn’t even react to the comment. He knew what he ought to say, that Phil was beautiful even with the scars, that they were a testament to how strong he was, that it didn’t matter because he was still Phil and he still lov-

It had been too long and Dan hadn’t said anything. He had been looking at a point over Phil’s shoulder for the last few minutes, thinking about what he knew came next. About the fact that pretty soon Phil would know exactly who he was. The thought was enough to make him want to throw up, but he knew he had to do it. If not for himself, then for Phil.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know they’re ugly.” Phil broke the quiet. 

The words ripped through Dan’s core. It was his fault that Phil thought that; he had put that uncertainty in Phil’s eyes and caused him to draw his arms up to cover his bare chest. He had always been the selfish one of the two of them, never able to look past himself and widen his vision to others. Phil was the one who picked up a pen for somebody when they dropped it, or asked if he was okay, even if Phil himself had had a bad day. Phil gave and gave and gave, and all Dan did was take. And of course, Phil never complained. He was just like that.

“Phil. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Scars and all.” Dan should have said that ages ago, when he first saw the evidence of Phil’s past ripped through the middle of him. Phil didn’t respond but Dan watched as the tightness next to the other boy’s eyes disappeared. Phil’s eyes always gave everything away.

There was another silence. Dan was looking at his feet now, and Phil was looking at Dan.

“Dan.” Phil’s voice was soft and feathery, and even after all this time, Dan got a little thrill through him when he heard his name like that.

“You don’t have to show me…” Phil tried, but Dan was shaking his head. Of course Phil would say something like that, would offer Dan a way out. He was always so nice, incredibly understanding and gentle. With Phil, Dan felt like the most precious person in the entire world. And sometimes that alone was enough to propel him through life. But he needed to do this. Needed to show Phil who he was.

“I have to, Phil.” Dan looked up at the older boy. “It’s just…” he hesitated again. The confession seemed stuck in his throat, years of practice with silence making the words heavy.

“I’m one of them, Phil.” And for emphasis, Dan placed a hand on the side of his head. He watched Phil’s face carefully, waiting for something to show there. He was ready for Phil to break down, or perhaps get angry at him for keeping the secret for so long. Dan was prepared to be thrown out and told he was useless, to see the disgust, or horror, or both, in Phil’s eyes. His mental image didn’t require the aid of imagination; he remembered vividly what had happened last time. But then there were arms thrown around his waist and suddenly Phil’s nose was buried into Dan’s neck.

“Did you think that would change anything, you spoon?” Phil whispered. Then they were both crying and holding onto each other, fingers gripping shoulders grasping hips clenching hair.

Softly, Phil began petting the smaller boy’s hair, running his fingers through the short strands and caressing his skull where he now knew the scars were hidden.

“I love you.” Phil whispered.

“I love you too.” Dan said. He was sniffing unattractively as the tears finally stopped leaking out of his eyes, and he pulled back a little to look into Phil’s eyes. He knew Dan’s secret but he hadn’t run, hadn’t left him. It didn’t matter that he was one of the ones with a scarred up head, evidence of the horrors lying within bared on the surface, yet never visible to anyone.

“That’s not it though.” Dan said after a time, pulling away from the embrace. “I…” He paused, gathering the courage once again and pooling it in with the warm feeling he still had from Phil’s declaration. 

“I-I have others.” He hated that he had stuttered.

“You can see those ones, they’re not covered by my hair and, well you know, they aren’t the same kind as these ones.” Dan laid his fingers against his head again, making his point, but Phil didn’t seem too surprised. Subconsciously, Phil’s eyes drifted to Dan’s wrists, but Dan only shook his head.

With shaking fingers Dan pulled up the hem of his t-shirt, inching the waistband of his sweatpants down at the same time. He revealed an entire army of scars, long straight lines from waist to upper thigh. But unlike the scars Phil had, like the ones on his head, these were put there by his own hands.

Tears were once again leaking from Phil’s eyes, as he knelt down in front of Dan. He braced one hand lightly on his hip, the other gripped the waistband of Dan’s trousers. Ever so gently, Phil brushed his lips over the tiny scars on his hips, travelled down to the deeper ones on his thighs.

“Phil.” Dan breathed. The dark haired boy looked up from his kneeling position, and Dan met his eyes once again. 

“No new ones.” Phil hadn’t asked a question, but Dan shook his head anyway.

“Not since you.”


End file.
